The King Of France
by RetsuKoumorixXx
Summary: "This is most strange, that she that even but now was your best object, the argument of your praise... should in this trice of time commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle so many folds of favour." FRUK, one-sided USUK, possible other pairings later.


Hurray, a new fanfic~ *totally doesn't have any other fanfics to finish or anything* .

This chapter was inspired by King Lear, and it's set in a college very similar to the one I go to... P:

The King Lear quotes belong to Shakespeare, and the characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya :3

[Edit] OH! I guess I should explain why I used King Lear in this fic... In the play, there's a character who is the King of France, and in my copy of the play he was just referred to as 'France'. I couldn't take that scene seriously X3

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><p>Arthur glanced at the clock. He had been pretending to read for half an hour now, and it was starting to irritate him. He already knew 'King Lear' almost off by heart, and was beginning to wonder why he was even bothering to take English Literature. <em>You need the qualification,<em> he reminded himself, eyes wandering lazily over the page, not taking in the words. _You only have to endure these idi- people who don't even bother to read the text for two years. You've put up with worse before._

"Ohonhon."

_Well, maybe not, _Arthur thought, interrupted by the laugh which was quiet enough to only be heard by himself. He glanced at the student sitting on his right, noting the wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair and lilac shirt. Yet another student he hadn't bothered to learn the name of. Vaguely wondering why they had decided to sit next to him of all people, when there had been plenty of other empty seats, he went back to pretending to read. This proved to be increasingly difficult.

"Ohonhonhon."

Arthur looked around, glaring this time. The student continued to play around on his mobile, which was easy for him to hide since they were at the back of the room. Arthur was about to tell him to shut up, when the door slammed open and a tall, muscular boy in a superman t-shirt rushed in, looking flustered, with some of his hair sticking up and his glasses askew.

"Sorry 'm late!"

The teacher sighed and some of the other students snickered.

"Just sit down, Alfred. I'll talk to you after class."

Alfred stumbled over to his usual seat next to Arthur, giving him a small smile. Arthur's mouth twitched in reply, then he went back to 'reading'. Alfred was one of the few students he knew the name of so far, as Arthur found him to be... interesting. Plus, the guy had acted as a kind of guardian for Arthur's best friend since they were in primary school, so Arthur felt like he owed Alfred a lot. Even if he was American.

The lesson finally ended ten minutes later, and Arthur went straight to the small room opposite the classroom, happy to find that it was empty. The room was one of his favourite places in the college due to a combination of privacy, a small selection of his favourite books and the big comfy beanbags that were scattered about the place. Arthur spent a lot of time here, when he had a free lesson and Mattie didn't. Speaking of Mattie... Arthur flopped onto a beanbag and pulled out his phone, finding that he had one new message.

**'Hey Artie!** (Arthur wrinkled his nose at the nickname) **I finished my art, wuu2? :)'**

Arthur pressed reply, paused for a moment, then wrote:

**'I'm listening to Alfred getting shouted at for being late again. Someone should really buy him an alarm clock for his birthday. Anyway, haven't you got an essay to finish?'**

He hit send, then went to choose a book while he waited. His phone buzzed when he was just about to start reading, and he flipped it open irritably.

**'Oh crap, I forgot, thx Artie! And I did buy him an alarm clock, but he tried to stop it going off by throwing it out the window lol'**

Arthur chuckled quietly, then shut his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. Picking up the book again, he only managed to finish the first page before someone plopped down in the beanbag next to him. Arthur sighed again, realising that it would be impossible to read now that what he assumed was Alfred was next to him. Alfred tended to make it difficult for him to concentrate, always drawing him into a conversation or crazy scheme with that charming smile of his. Arthur would always get irritated with himself after Alfred was gone, but couldn't seem to do anything more than _pretend_ to be annoyed when Alfred was around.

Whoever was next to him coughed, and he started. It didn't sound like Alfred, but it still had a vaguely familiar tone to it. Arthur looked up to see long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, reminiscent of Alfred's but worn in a completely different way, with more confidence than the awkward American could ever have...

"Bonjour", the student who sat next to him in English Lit smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. Arthur managed to pull his expression into something reminiscent of a glare. He didn't like surprises, although he should have realised that he could still hear Alfred being shouted at.

"What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say hello, Arthur, you don't need to be so defensive." Now the lilac-shirted annoyance was frowning. Arthur grimaced, suddenly feeling bad for never learning his classmate's name, when he had obviously bothered to learn his. But he was still annoyed.

"Well... hello then. And I bloody well am not grumpy!"

"Hey, no need to swear at me... I'll go then, shall I?" Arthur was about to say that yes, he bloody well should go, when Alfred appeared, grinning like an idiot, and all coherent thought left Arthur's head. As usual, Arthur ignored the reason for this. He didn't like it, and he definitely didn't want to acknowledge it. The long-haired ponce of a boy next to him chuckled softly.

"Hey Arthur, I- oh, hey Francis."

_Oh, so his name is Francis. Appropriate._ 'Francis' stood up and smiled at Alfred.

"Bonjour, Alfred. I'm afraid I have to go now, I have... things to do. Au revoir." And with that, Francis swept out of the room, Arthur glaring after him. Alfred occupied the empty space Francis had left behind, still grinning.

"Yeah, anyway, as I was saying... Uhh... What was I going to say?"

"I don't know, you bloody idiot, I'm not psychic."

"Oh. Well, whatever. Did he interrupt your reading?" Alfred gestured towards the door, clearly referring to Francis. Arthur nodded curtly, and Alfred chuckled.

~(o-o)~

The next day, Arthur decided to make sure that Alfred wasn't late. Leaving plenty of time to get to the first lesson, he walked to Alfred's house, even though it was way off of his usual route to college. When nobody answered the door, Arthur assumed that Alfred's parents were out, which would explain why he was never awake on time. He tried the doorbell a few more times before deciding that it was hopeless. However, he knew for a fact that there was a spare key underneath the large flowerpot near the door. He had seen Alfred use it a few times, since the American had a habit of forgetting his keys.

Now Arthur had a dilemma. Should he use the key and enter the house uninvited? A sense of duty told him that yes, he should. He felt like he owed Alfred a lot for looking after Mattie. And they were friends. Just friends. Arthur ignored the small pain in his chest at that last part, and proceeded to lift up the flowerpot (with some difficulty; Alfred was clearly a lot stronger than him) and remove the key from underneath it. He only hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door, walking in and shutting it behind him before he changed his mind The house seemed to be almost empty; all the lights were off, and Arthur couldn't hear anyone moving downstairs. However, unsurprisingly, he could hear a faint snoring from upstairs. Manoeuvring past the pile of shoes by the door, the bag Alfred used for college and a gym bag that Arthur assumed also belonged to Alfred, he made his way to the foot of the stairs before climbing up them as quietly as possible. He wasn't sure why he was trying to be quiet, since he wanted Alfred to wake up. Maybe it was just the atmosphere. He was, after all, an intruder. Finally reaching the landing, he saw the door marked as Alfred's by a sign with Mickey Mouse on it and the words 'Alfred's Room' in multicoloured letters. Alfred had insisted that he had gotten it when he was a lot younger, and just hadn't gotten around to taking it down yet. Arthur had decided not to challenge him; it would have been hypocritical, considering the unicorn plush he still slept with, and the books containing children's fairy tales hidden under his bed.

Reaching Alfred's door, a question popped into Arthur's head. _What if he sleeps naked? _It was possible, considering the warm weather. And Alfred probably wasn't expecting anyone other than his parents to be walking into his room. Arthur, despite a barely repressed desire to see exactly what Alfred slept in, _just out of curiosity_, he knocked on the door rather than just barging in. The snoring stopped, and there was a grunt from the other side of the door. Arthur took that as an invitation to enter, and pushed the door open.

Alfred was sprawled across his bed, on top of the blue duvet, clearly nodding off again before seeing who had just walked in. And he was only wearing his superman boxers. Arthur remembered the first time he had been in Alfred's room. His eyes had been drawn to the superhero posters, the piles of comic books scattered about, and the empty food wrappers on nearly every surface. This time, however, he didn't see any of that. All he saw was _him. _Arthur found his eyes travelling over Alfred's body. He could see that all the hours Alfred spent at the gym were paying off; he was definitely toned, which was amazing considering the sheer amount of junk food he ate. And then... Arthur's eyes travelled lower, settling on the Superman logo, and he found himself blushing a little. _Thank God he's still asleep, _Arthur thought, deciding to look back up at Alfred's face, just in case Alfred woke up. It was strange to see Alfred without his glasses. He looked younger, Arthur decided. _Definitely not cute,_ he insisted to himself, having to suppress a chuckle at the trail of drool leaving Alfred's mouth. And then it finally occurred to Arthur that they were meant to be getting to college.

Arthur eventually managed to make Alfred get up by throwing an empty Coke can at him. Alfred had promptly tried to cover himself up with his hands, realising that his best friend could see his almost-nakedness. Arthur looked away, laughing, to let Alfred get dressed. Occupying himself with looking at Alfred's desk, in order to force himself to not turn around, Arthur noticed that Alfred's laptop was still on.

"Alfred, do you want me to turn your laptop off?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, thanks, I must have left it on last night."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur stepped towards the desk and jiggled the mouse to get rid of the multicoloured pipes that were filling up the screen. He was just about to click 'shut down' when he noticed that Alfred's picture folder was open. _Huh, he must have just minimised it before he fell asleep,_ Arthur thought. He clicked on it so that he could close it before shutting down. Then he froze. On the screen in front of him was a collection of thumbnails of pictures that were obviously porn. This wouldn't have surprised him, if the pictures had women in them. But no, there were no females to be found here. Arthur was even sure that he had some of these pictures on his own laptop... Hurriedly, not wanting Alfred to know what he had seen, he clicked the x, then shut the laptop down.

"Okay, I'm ready!"

Arthur turned to see that Alfred, thankfully, was now fully dressed. Even if his hair was a mess. Alfred's head tilted to the side, and he looked at Arthur oddly.

"Dude, you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost or something!"

"No, no, I'm fine." Arthur chuckled weakly. Alfred just shrugged.

~(o-o)~

Arthur and Alfred managed to make it to college with a few minutes to spare, a feat that they only managed by running. (Well, Alfred was actually jogging, to let Arthur keep up) Their English teacher looked to be in a state of shock when Alfred walked in, on time and perfectly composed. Arthur only just managed to catch Alfred's mumbled 'Thanks, buddy'. His mind was racing. Could Alfred really be... No, of course not, there had to be a reasonable explanation. He was just looking at the pictures out of curiosity, and hadn't liked what he saw, so he had quickly minimised the folder... But then, why didn't he just close the folder? In fact, why did he have the pictures saved onto his laptop in the first place?

Arthur glanced at Alfred, to see his eyebrows furrowed in great concentration, eyes fixed firmly on the text. He could almost see the cogs turning... Suppressing a chuckle, he turned back to his own text and tried to lose himself in the familiar words of Shakespeare's play, so he didn't have to think about... well, _that_.

~(o-o)~

It only occurred to Arthur that the seat next to him was empty when they were about to leave. He looked around the room; Maybe Francis had moved seats? Apparently not, there was no sign of the French irritation. Arthur shrugged, following Alfred out of the room.

Leaving Alfred to head to P.E., Arthur made his way towards the art department, slipping into the Textiles classroom, ignoring the usual glances from the girls that made up the rest of the class. He picked up his embroidery project and settled into his usual seat near the back, only half-listening to what the teacher was saying. Only once he got stuck into the embroidery (_Such a manly thing to be doing_, he often thought with a small smirk), did he manage to stop thinking about Alfred.

~(o-o)~

At lunch, Alfred and Arthur met up in the room opposite the English classroom, both settling on beanbags. Alfred immediately pulled out some coursework that he had forgotten was due in today, and Arthur pulled out his phone, not in the mood for reading.

**'Hey Mattie, can I talk to you about something?'**

**'Sure, what's up?'**

**'Where to begin... Well, I was at Alfred's earlier, and I saw some... pictures on his laptop.'**

**'What kind of pictures? Like, THOSE kinds of pictures? You do know that's a normal thing for guys our age, right?'**

**'Yes, yes, I know, but... Well, these pictures didn't have any women in them.'**

**Arthur stared at what he had written for a few moments before sending it.**

**'Oh. OH. So, you mean, he might be... like us?'**

**'I... don't know, I mean, he doesn't seem like the type...'**

**'I know, but, you can't always trust appearances... Maybe you should try asking him, if you care that much ;)'**

Arthur started at that. Would it really be a good idea to ask about it? He briefly imagined a situation where yes, it had been a good idea to ask, and Alfred really was like that, and he actually had a chance to...

"Artie."

Arthur jumped and looked up at Alfred, wide-eyed.

"Could you give me a hand with..." he waved a hand towards the coursework. It turned out to be maths, nothing too difficult, and it only took them a few minutes to work through it. The difficult part, however, was how close Arthur had to get to Alfred to be able to see the page. Their shoulders were pressed together, and he could almost feel Alfred's breath on his face. He worried that Alfred would notice that he was blushing, that his hands were clammy, and his heart was beating faster than humanly possible. But then, he thought, maybe Alfred felt the same. A glance revealed no outer signs that Alfred was having any kind of reaction to the closeness. _Maybe he's just really good at hiding his emotions..._

When they had finished, and Arthur finally managed to move away, he looked again at his phone, at the last text he had received from Mattie. Then he slowly put the phone away, looking up at Alfred. The American was staring at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought, as unlikely as that sounded. Arthur had a sudden, almost painful urge to know if he had any chance at all with Alfred Jones, the boy he had fallen in love with the first moment he had laid eyes on him. _Well, that was poetic. And a little clichéd... _

"Alfred."

"Hmm?" Alfred looked like he had just remembered that there was someone else in the room.

"Uhh..." Arthur found himself suddenly unsure about what to say. "...can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure." Alfred fixed him with those perfect blue eyes, and Arthur once again gained his determination.

"Well, you know I was in your room this morning."

"Yeah."

"And I shut down your laptop for you..."

If Alfred had any idea what was coming, it didn't show.

"I saw some... pictures, on there. You had left the folder open, and I..."

Arthur thought he saw a minuscule change in Alfred's expression, but the change was unreadable and he wasn't entirely sure it had happened at all.

"Alfred, are you... gay?"

There was a pause, during which Alfred just stared at him blankly. And then, something seemed to snap. Alfred's expression twisted to one of anger, and he stood up, towering above Arthur, who shrunk back into his chair, suddenly regretting his decision.

"Why? Are you a fucking fag? Do you want to stick your dick in me, is that it?" He didn't shout. In fact, his voice was quieter than usual, but it was full of venom and somehow more terrifying than if he had shouted. Arthur couldn't move, couldn't react. Alfred raised a hand, as if he was going to hit Arthur, but suddenly there was someone standing between them.

"This is most strange, that she that even but now was your best object, the argument of your praise, balm of your age, most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle so many folds of favour."

_French accent. Powder blue silk shirt. Long blonde hair... Francis. Wait, is he quoting-_

"Sure her offence must be of such unnatural degree that monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection fall'n into taint; which to believe of her must be a faith that reason without miracle should never plant in me."

_King Lear. He's actually quoting King Lear. Perfectly. Bloody hell._

"Is it but this- a tardiness in nature which often leaves the history unspoke that it intends to do? My Lord of America, what say you to the... lady? Love's not love when it is mingled with regards that stands aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry."

Alfred stared at Francis, mouth slightly open. Francis was the only one that saw the hurt in his eyes, since he was blocking Arthur's view. And then it was gone, and Alfred was back to looking pissed off. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he stalked out of the room, with a mutter of "Fucking poofs everywhere."

Francis turned to Arthur to see the Brit staring after Alfred, the pain in his eyes blatantly obvious, the tears hanging there threatening to spill out. Francis knelt down in front of him, and Arthur looked at him with those beautiful emerald eyes, clearly trying to compose himself.

"Fairest Arthur, that art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect my love should kindle to inflam'd respect. Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. Not all the dukes in wat'rish America can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Arthur, though unkind. Thou losest here, a better where to find."

Throughout Francis' (perfect) quote, Arthur's face went through a number of emotions; Pain, confusion, shock, anger, amusement, and, finally, he managed to compose himself into an almost-neutral expression. What ruined it was the tear that ran down his cheek. Francis reached out to wipe it away, and Arthur closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. Then his eyes snapped open, and he shifted away slightly, clearing his throat.

"Do you have any bloody idea what you just said?" Francis was a little taken aback by the question.

"I... vaguely."

"How the hell did you remember all that? You never pay attention in class, you're always on your phone, hell, you weren't even there this morning!"

Francis chuckled and pulled his phone out of his pocket, showing Arthur the screen. He had a website up that looked to be about King Lear. The part of the play that Francis had just quoted was there, with short explanations of some of the quotes.

"I learn better this way."

"Aah, I see... So, the King of France, huh?"

"Ohon, yes, I find I can... relate to his character." There was an awkward pause, and Francis realised that Arthur was coping rather well for someone who, he assumed, had just had his heart broken. Then again, he wasn't spouting his usual string of swear words and insults.

Arthur stared at Francis like he was really seeing him for the first time. The way the powder blue shirt complemented his eyes, the way every wave and curl in his hair was perfectly styled, yet he had slight stubble growing on his chin that didn't look at all out of place... and then Arthur realised that he was staring, tried to find something else to look at, glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, and realised with a start that he was late for his next lesson. Francis followed his gaze.

"Ah, you are late? Are you sure you are even up to going to your lesson?"

Arthur considered this for a moment, then shook his head.

"Well then," Francis stood, offering his hand to the Brit. "Come, my fair Arthur."

Arthur stared at the hand for a moment, as if considering the implications, then sighed and took it, allowing himself to be pulled up.

"Where are we going?"

"We are going for a walk, mon ami."

"Oh." Arthur had never skipped a lesson before without a good reason. But then, he guessed that this was a good reason. There was no way he would be able to cope with sitting through Art. He also briefly wondered what 'mon ami' meant, and made a mental note to ask Mattie later. Thinking of Mattie automatically made him think of Alfred, and he flinched. Francis squeezed his hand and began to lead him out of the room.

"Hold on, did you call me a lady earlier?"

"Well, you are quite... feminine? Apart from those ridiculous eyebrows, of course."

Arthur managed a small scowl. "Also, I'm not 'your' Arthur."

"Not yet." Francis smirked back at him, and Arthur completely ignored the way his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't deal with that right now.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Francis laughed, loud and distinctly French, and they left the college by the stairs next to the English classroom, heading towards the park, barely even noticing that their hands were still locked together.

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><p>Well, that's it for now. I might make some changes later, and I *may* continue this. I have plans for it, but I've got two other fics to finish o3o<p>

Btw, I would bloody love some constructive criticism o-q


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